


Fluffy Snektober

by Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Bookshop Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Support Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Flufftober, M/M, Making Love, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Romance, Sensuality, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Tags May Change, as it were, mentioned but not seen on screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk
Summary: I completely missed Snektember, so whenCinnabarMinttold me about Flufftober I thought, well, let's just make it a giant collection of fluffy snake!Crowley prompts.These will all be one-shots, with only one thing in common - snake!Crowley. Oh, and fluff and love and romance, of course.Some will be super short because oh lord do I have a lot of fics on the go right now (this is not a bad thing, obviously.)I hope you enjoy the snakey snuggles and fluff <3(Quick note: Look. Look, I've posted NSFW snake!Crowley content before so I can't guarantee this will stay T rated. But I'll always put a CW up so you can skip those chapters if it's not your cuppa tea.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 225
Kudos: 226
Collections: Flufftober 2020





	1. In The Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is just about to leave a party in Ancient Rome when he senses a familiar presence. But why has Crowley hidden himself in an alcove?

Aziraphale felt the tell-tale prickle of Crowley’s infernal energy, like firelight warm against his skin, before he could see the demon. He was surrounded by Roman patricians, philosophers, and scholars. He’d been sent to the gathering to seek out a promising young philosopher and give him a touch of divine inspiration. Mission accomplished, he had decided to sample some of the honey cake, olives, and delicious-looking fruits and wines, before retiring to his villa. The moment he felt Crowley nearby, he turned his attention to the much more pressing matter of finding the demon.

In the name of keeping an eye on his hereditary enemy, obviously.

At first he was confounded at seeing no sign of the demon. Then he spotted a glossy black serpent’s head poking out from a curtained alcove.

“In here angel.”

Aziraphale quickly stepped into the alcove and, at Crowley’s sharp hiss and sudden gesture with his head, closed the curtains. He could still hear the murmur of voices and the sounds of the cithara and tympanum as they made merry music. But his attention was all on the majestic black and red serpent, coiled on a wooden ledge.

“Crowley, what are you doing?” Aziraphale asked as he stepped closer. “Are you injured?”

“What? No. Can’t a snake relax in an alcove?”

“Well yes I suppose so, if he especially wants to.” Aziraphale plucked a fig from a nearby platter and offered it to Crowley, who reared back slightly as if surprised, but took it, tongue briefly flickering against Aziraphale’s fingers. 

“Look, it’s just easier sometimes, alright? Takes less concentration than my human-shaped form.”

“I have no opinion on which form you take. You were a serpent when I met you, and really, forms are just a choice for us aren’t they? I am, however, perfectly intrigued as to why you chose to be a snake here, in an alcove, at a party. Are you here for a temptation?”

“Nuh, not exactly.” Crowley let his head drop to rest atop his coils as if weary of the world. “Bloody snake cult started up, I was just sunning myself by the Colosseum, minding my own business, when some blasted over-enthusiastic acolyte grabbed me and put me in a basket. A bassssssket, angel.”

He sounded so offended that Ariaphale gamely bit back the snort of laughter that wanted to escape.

“You could have miracled yourself away? Or bitten him. Are you venomous? Perhaps you ought not to bite too many people if so …”

“Only if I want to be.” Crowley tipped his head in an amused manner. “Condoning me biting some random man? Not very angelic of you at all.”

“Hmm.” Aziraphale picked up another fig and fed it to Crowley, before helping himself to several. “Perhaps I dislike the thought of some youth daring to put a hand on you.”

“Possessssive. I like it. Always knew you weren’t all walking on clouds and playing the harp.”

“You’re impossible.” Aziraphale smiled fondly at the demon. 

Crowley conceded the point with a nod, seeming quite happy to be impossible as he wrapped himself around Azirphale’s forearm.

“Gonna be my hero, then, angel?” He teased. Aziraphale sighed indulgently and extended his arm so Crowley could easily slip inside the sleeve of his toga, where he wrapped himself around and around Aziraphale’s upper arm like a living piece of jewelry. 

“Very well then. Let’s go back to my villa. I won’t sell you to a snake cult, if you don’t spread rumours that I harbored a demonic serpent.”

There was a quick, amused squeeze of Aziraphale’s bicep.

“You have yoursssself a deal.”


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wants to be with Crowley during his shed. Crowley isn't opposed to the idea, but the angel does tend to get carried away ...

Aziraphale was pacing. Crowley knew Aziraphale was pacing before he even miracled himself to the bookshop. His pacing was sending tiny twisty shockwaves through the ether and into Crowley’s angel-sensitive heart.

Crowley hissed a sigh. He was going to regret agreeing to shed at the bookshop for the first time. But Aziraphale had looked at him with that hopeful expression like maybe Crowley was about to make his dreams come true. Truth be told, there was something endearing about Aziraphale wanting to spend the time with him rather than wait a couple of weeks till it was over. They’d spent centuries apart before. Now they were safe, and the angel didn’t want to miss one single opportunity to spend time together. How could Crowley say no to that?

With one slightly irritated thrash of his tail, Crowley miracled his Eden-sized serpent form to the bookshop. Where he was immediately hit with a wave of warmth and humidity worthy of the tropical rainforest. He shook his head and tried to focus his senses on his new environment, check for sure that it was the bookshop and he hadn’t slipped into a parallel dimension. 

That was definitely Aziraphale pacing slightly and trying to act normally as he greeted him with an over-cheerful “hello, dear boy!” But whether this was the bookshop was up for debate. Confused, Crowley flicked out his tongue to taste the air. He could still taste old ink and parchment, but fainter than normal. The couch was in its usual place, except it appeared to be made of roughened wood … and why was the floor warm?

“Where are the books?” he asked, because he had to start somewhere and the amount of discordant information pouring into his senses was making him dizzy.

“In climate controlled cabinets.” Aziraphale said, as if that was completely normal.  
“They know better than to fall apart, but with the extra humidity, I thought I oughtn’t to take the risk.”

“Is that … is that a hygrometer?”

“Well, how else would I know the humidity levels?” Aziraphale asked, with a note of offence, as if Crowley had just accused him of being a bad host. “I kept this half of the room warm and the other half cooler. I … I hope that was right.”

He should have known Aziraphale would approach this with all the enthusiasm he’d mustered for learning magic tricks. He’d probably been knee-deep in herpetology books since Crowley had told him of his impending shed. 

“S’ fine.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sounded dejected, and Crowley groaned, cross at himself for causing pain over what was clearly a carefully thought out gesture.. 

“It’s perfect, angel.” He tried, and realised he’d over-compensated and now sounded fakely enthusiastic.

“You don’t like it? Oh, Lord.”

Aziraphale’s voice sounded paler, somehow.

“Crowley, you … you do know I don’t think of you as a pet, don’t you? I didn’t think this through. I only thought, you might need different things to be comfortable in this form. I do so want you to be comfortable. What if you have an incomplete shed? Can I miracle it better?”

“Angel … angel, sit down.” Crowley said, his insides twisting slightly with the knowledge that he was about to bare part of his soul. Aziraphale did so, perching atop a cushion on the wooden couch, hands twisting in his lap. Crowley slithered onto the couch, settling in a bunched-up pile of coils that only just fit between Aziraphale and the arm of the sofa. He leaned forward and butted his head against the angel’s cheek.

“This thing can’t be comfortable for you.” He pointed out. 

“I thought the wood might be useful for you to glide over.”

“You musssst really love me.” 

“I do.” Aziraphale leaned down and kissed the top of Crowley’s head. The atmosphere shifted like storm clouds passing over, and suddenly telling the whole truth didn’t seem so bad to Crowley.

“Not used to being pampered am I?” He told the angel. “Feels odd. Self conscious.”

There was a long silence.

“I should have taken better care of you, before. Regardless of which corporation you were wearing.”

“No.” Crowley hissed softly. “Not what I’m trying to say. Could hardly have gone round having pedicures and doing couple’s yoga when we were being watched all the damn time. Just saying it’s new. Not sure what to do with it to be honest.”

“Well, you would be terribly good at yoga in this form dear, very flexible.”

Crowley couldn’t smile so easily as a snake, but he gently rubbed his cheek against Aziraphale’s. When the angel raised his hand to pet the scales along Crowley’s jaw, his hand reassuringly warm, Crowley relaxed and more of his long body spill into the angel’s space. They sat in contented quietude for a while, Crowley half-drowsing against his angel’s shoulder, while Aziraphale picked up his book in his free hand, other hand still stroking Crowley’s scales. It was the angel who broke the silence.

“If you think I got carried away in here, wait till you see the bathroom.”


	3. "But You Said"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just pure fluffy silly Eden fun.

“But you said you can’t climb trees.”

Aziraphale looked crossly up into the branches of the Tree of Knowledge.

“Not can’t. I said I didn’t.”

“Yet now you have.”

Crawly moved lower, long body twining around the branches.

“Why do you care?”

“Well … being so close to Her tree of knowledge might have hurt you.”

“Aziraphale …”

Crawly slithered all the way down to where he could rest eye to eye with the angel.

“I might almost think you care what happens to me.”

“I’m an angel. It’s my job to care.”

Azirphale said primly, and Crawly gave a long, vibrating hiss that sounded like nothing so much as a laugh.

“It’s your job to care in general. But I’m a special exception.”

Aziraphale tried to protest, but his blustering was somewhat belied by the brief but unmistakable way he stroked one finger under Crawly’s ruby-scaled chin.

“Very well dear. You’re special. Now make yourself useful and slither up that peach tree by the waterfall. I find myself quite peckish after spending half the morning searching for you, wily old serpent.”

Crawly leaned forward and playfully bumped the angel’s nose with his snout.

“Fine. But you’re in charge of miracling the water into something more drinkable.”


	4. Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is enjoying dozing in the afternoon, when he hears the sound of an angel in (very mild) peril.

He should probably be up and tempting people. But the windowsill was so cosy, with the late autumn sunlight streaming through the window. Besides, who was keeping score anymore? Heaven and Hell were leaving them alone, so tempting was less about the quotas, and more about keeping his skills sharp.

Scaring off the customers probably counted as proper demonic activity anyway. And it kept his angel happy, so Crowley was content to call that a win-win.

He was almost asleep again when his slumber was interrupted by a sharp gasp and an exasperated “oh, bother!”

“Angel?” Rousing himself, Crowley slithered onto the floor and made his way into the backroom, flicking the sign to “closed” with a glance on his way past. He found Aziraphale sitting on one of the worn velvet chairs, clutching his right hand against his chest and looking a little sheepish.

“I’m fine Crowley. Go back to tormenting the customers.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a cool look, and snaked his way into the chair, and into Aziraphale’s lap, nudging his hand with his head.

“C’mon, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes, but lowered his hand to show that his right palm was burned bright red.

“I was about to miracle it - “

He began, but Crowley cut him off by dipping his head and gently flickering his tongue against the palm, vanishing all trace of redness. He tasted a hint of hellfire scored across the angel’s parchment and bergamot taste like a brand, and raised his head curiously.

“Cursed books are always a bit of a risk.” The angel admitted, flushing. “Perhaps I ought to store them a little more carefully.”

Crowley groaned and butted the angel’s chest with his snout.

“Or get rid of them, idiot angel. I really don’t want to survive the apocalypse only to lose you to a particularly bloody-minded copy of some ancient eldritch text. What was the book anyway?”

Aziraphale looked like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not.

“You’d never believe me if I told you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's a tease! But no book title I could come up with would be as funny as your own idea of a surprisingly cursed book. Though if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them in the comments!


	5. Sparkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is enjoying the South Downs cottage garden at night, when he gets some unexpected but very welcome company.

The night wrapped itself around Aziraphale like a soft black blanket as he relaxed into his favourite seat in their garden. Crowley had gone to bed hours ago - he always slept more in the autumn and winter - but Aziraphale had been unable to sleep.

He did sleep, sometimes, now. It was becoming quite the habit for him to slip into bed next to Crowley and drift into dreams wrapped in his demon’s arms, lulled to sleep by the warm spice and iron scent of his skin.

Not this night, though. The day had been too perfect, too lovely, for sleep. They’d taken a day trip to Petersfield so Crowley could explore the replica 17th century physic garden and admire the plants (though of course he shot them a quick glare if he caught Aziraphale watching him.) Aziraphale had insisted they walk a few miles of the Serpent’s Trail through the heath and lowland, being as it was so well named. Crowley had pretended to grumble, but even he couldn’t keep up the pretence when he saw the picnic Aziraphale had brought to sustain them (“Angel, is the inside of this picnic basket a TARDIS?” and oh he’d been delighted that Aziraphale actually knew what that was. Well, he’d been reading a fair bit of Austen and Bronte lately, it was only fair that Aziraphale learn his interests too.)

By the time they’d strolled through the town centre, picking up fresh bread and local cheese, a crisp elderflower wine, and several books that he simply couldn’t bear to leave without, Aziraphale had wondered if it was possible to feel any happier.

Mind singing with too much joy to sleep, and figuring he’d already slept once that week anyway, he took a cup of Lapsang Souchong and a few squares of rich, dark chocolate, and settled himself onto the wooden seat at the end of the garden. The scents of gardenia, wisteria, and evening primrose filled his nostrils, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. It was a dark moon, and so the sky glittered with countless stars. Aziraphale was quite certain the South Downs enjoyed darker skies now than it had when they moved there. He’d asked Crowley a couple of times, but the demon had just winked and changed the subject.

A sudden rustle in the grass to his left made Azirapahel flinch and nearly spill his tea. But then he felt the familiar thrum of infernal energy, and his sharp eyes made out the dark shape of a large snake climbing onto the bench and slithering into his lap, draping himself over the angel's legs in a spill of beloved coils that Aziraphale immediately reached to stroke.

“Why, hello my darling.”

He gathered Crowley up so they were face to face, pressing gentle kisses to his snout. 

“I thought you were asleep upstairs. And last time I saw you, you had legs.”

Crowley hissed a soft laugh.

“Like to come out here at night sometimes. S’peaceful. Specially on a night like this.”

He gazed up at the sky, and Aziraphale understood at once.

“You like to come and see your stars.”

Crowley turned back to him, rubbing his snout softly against Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Yeah. I still love them as much as ever.”

“Quite right. They’re very beautiful. I find myself quite awed, you know, to be able to look in the sky and see such lovely things as you created.”

Crowley’s body rippled in what Aziraphale knew was a shrug. “Not really a star-maker now, am I? Just your average demon.”

“There is nothing average about you.” Aziraphale told him, brushing his fingertips carefully over the scales on Crowley’s jaw. “Besides, there’s something quite thrilling about looking at the night sky and knowing that for all their theories, humans will never know the truth; that you hung the stars they so love to see. You’re my delicious little secret.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Crowley told him with a teasing flicker of his tongue, but Aziraphale felt the way his long, serpentine body relaxed, draping easily across Aziraphale’s shoulders, twining around his chest and giving a quick, possessive squeeze.

Aziraphale turned so he could nuzzle Crowley’s face. “Show me again which ones you made?”

Crowley gave a soft hiss of contentment, pointing with his tail. “That one there … that one took a few goes to get right … honestly, I made that one because I was bored that day …”

There they stayed, counting stars until dawn streaked the sky, and then counting the different ways to tell each other all the loving things they’d kept unspoken for millennia, until time and the stars were forgotten, their world shrunk down to one angel and one demon who were the centre of each other's universe.

  
  



	6. Quicksilver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is sick, and Aziraphale is determined to take care of him.

“Aziraphale, for Satan’s sake!”

“What?” The angel sounded thoroughly put out. “I am merely trying to help.”

“By taking my temperature?” Crowley asked grumpily, rearranging himself on the bed and succeeding in tangling his long coils in the sheets. Irritably writhing out of them with a thrash of his powerful tail, he fixed the angel with his best serpent stare. 

“You are clearly sick, Crowley. Your scales are hot as sun-baked rocks. How is that even possible? Aren’t you cold-blooded?”

“Varies.” Crowley grunted, shifting in the sheets and failing ot get comfortable. “Still filled with Hellfire, aren’t I? And I’m not a literal snake. I’m a snake-shaped demon.”

“I know that.” Aziraphale huffed. “But you are still sick, and I cannot figure out why. Surely we are immune to earthly diseases?”

As he spoke, he popped the thermometer into Crowley’s mouth as if that was a perfectly normal thing to do. They both watched as the mercury slid off the end of the scale and the entire thing exploded into a rain of glass and quicksilver, quickly stopped by dual miracles.

“For goodness’ sake Crowley, how hot are you?”

“I am a demon. And I’m certainly hot enough for you.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly. “Be that as it may dear, will you at least tell me what ails you? I am worried about you.”

“Oh, alright.” Crowley flopped into a heap with his head resting on his coils. “Hastur tricked me at the office April Fools party. Got me to drink a little cursed punch. ‘S nothing serious. It’ll pass out of my system in a few weeks.”

“I’ll pass him out in a few weeks.” Aziraphale muttered darkly, and Crowley tasted a sudden scent of possessiveness on the air, delicious as the headiest wine. “But right now, how can I help you? I confess I am not up to date with what one ought to do when caring for a sick loved one. Do you need chicken soup? More blankets? A cool washcloth?”

“Angel, you’re being ridiculous, I don’t - “ Crowley trailed off. Technically, the cool washcloth did sound soothing, and he grudgingly said so. Aziraphale beamed as if Crowley had given him a gift, hastening to fill a bowl with cool water and miracle up a soft cloth, which he used to bathe Crowley’s scales so gently, as if he loved them, easing the unbearable heat. If a tiny sliver of angelic power slid under Crowley’s scales and gently soothed his body, who was to know? And if a slightly poorly demon curled up to sleep wrapped around his angel with his snout tucked into the warmth of his neck, that was no one else’s concern. 

And if that angel spent the entire night cradling his demon close and whispering gentle words of love that they would both pretend Crowley hadn’t heard as they smiled at each other over breakfast, well, that was just him doing his angelic duty, and who could argue with that?


	7. "Stop hogging the blankets!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A large snake needs lots of blankets, but an angel does not want to be cold!

“Crowley! Stop hogging the blankets!”

Aziraphale shook his head at the sight of one very large black and red snake, coiled around himself on the left side of the bed, with all three of Aziraphale’s blankets wrapped around him.

“Why’d you care? Not like you’re gonna sleep.”

“No, but I prefer to do my night time reading in warmth and comfort.”

Aziraphale’s ire subsided when Crowley reared up to look at him, one of the blankets catching on the scales of his head and cascading around him like a cape.

“Very fetching, dear.”

He told his demon, reaching out to release the blanket while Crowley hissed annoyance at the indignity. The soft chenille pooled around his thick coils and Aziraphale felt love filling his chest like a soothing balm. Crowley was watching him steadily, head tilted to the side. Whatever he saw in Aziraphale’s face clearly pleased him, for he moved closer, until he could drape his long body over the angel’s thighs, belly and chest, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. Seconds later, Aziraphale felt the subtle flush of infernal heat warming through his nightshirt where Crowley rested on him.

“Better, angel?”

“Much.” He leaned down and pressed a loving kiss to the smooth scales atop Crowley’s head. “You’re my favourite blanket.”

Crowley grumbled something about being sappy, but he wound his tail a little tighter around the angel’s thigh and squeezed. Aziraphale picked up his book, and minutes later he felt Crowley grow heavy with sleep, resting contentedly on the angel. There they stayed until long past dawn, cosy and content in their own perfect corner of the universe.


	8. Unwavering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two ancient beings enjoy a moment of deep intimacy and everything is right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this is the most softlit self-indulgent, sappy metaphysical fluff, it IS also intimate and there is an angel who likes having the serpent of Eden wrapped around his naked self, so if that's weird for you, skip this chapter!

“Forever?”

Aziraphale smiled up at Crowley, fingers reaching to trail slowly over the scales on his jaw. 

“Forever.”

Crowley confirmed, long body stretching and pulling atop Aziraphale, scales rasping softly against his warm, soft stomach and silky inner thighs. 

“And if time ends, eventually?”

“Then I’ll find a way to re-start it, so I can start loving you all over again.” Crowley told him, leaning down to nuzzle the angel’s neck, and let his tongue play lightly over his pulse.

“You old romantic.” Aziraphale teased, though his breath caught in his chest when Crowley shifted position, long coils spilling over his legs and hips. 

“Not romantic.” Crowley muttered, butting Aziraphale’s chest as if in admonishment, then licking carefully across the broad plains of it, lower body bunching and relaxing rhythmically so they were always in motion, always gliding against each other, entwined. 

“Could stay like this for hours, days even.” Aziraphale told him, hands grasping at his serpentine curves, one leg hooking around him and pressing them tighter together. “Can’t get enough of feeling you so close.”

“Stay as long as you want, angel. The world can do what it wants as far as I’m concerned.” Crowley punctuated his words with a long, slow ripple against Aziraphale’s legs and lower stomach that left him panting and pressing more urgently against his demon.

“Crowley, I … oh yes darling move like that again … I want … I … we’ve never …”

Crowley’s curiosity was piqued. They’d tried many things since the world didn’t end, including a handful of very enjoyable experiments in this serpentine form. 

“Never what, angel?” He flicked his tongue lightly against Aziraphale’s nipple, just to hear him groan. 

“Want to know you, not this corporation or your man-shaped one, but what lies deeper.”

“Angel ….” Crowley breathed, moving to gaze down at him, willing his serpent’s eyes to see more clearly so he could watch the expression on his face, so open, so trusting … so wanting. 

Aziraphale cupped his face with one hand, the other stroking slowly down the long curve of his back. “Would you … would you like that?”

“Yesss, of course yes.” Crowley hissed softly, leaning down so he could let his tongue flicker against Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale automatically parted his lips for it, pressing his mouth to Crowley’s.

“Now?”

Crowley asked, with a note of uncertainty.

“If it pleases you, my darling.” Aziraphale told him, and Crowley tasted the sharp sweetness of hope. He nodded once, then wrapped himself tighter around his angel, wanting to get as much of himself against Aziraphale as possible. 

Slowly, tentatively, he let a few tendrils of his energy reach towards Aziraphale, offering, enquiring. Aziraphale gave him that smile, the one that made the sun give up and go home, and reached back. The moment their energies touched, Crowley felt a bolt of ecstatic lightning that flashed up his spine, and from Aziraphale’s answering cry, he knew he wasn’t alone. 

The angel felt like a white-sand beach, warmed by the sun, like the moment before running across new snow, like the first touch of moonlight on a darkened earth. His energy rippled and shifted like light on water, and Crowley found he knew exactly how to answer it. He knew how to weave his own midnight-deep energy around and through Aziraphale’s, giving it a place to rest. 

Aziraphale whispered his name in awe, trailing off into soft, surprised groans of pleasure as his essence came to rest against Crowley’s like feathers settling on a bed of obsidian, as if they’d always meant to be there. As if Crowley had been made to twine completely with his angel and love him from the inside out.

As if they’d loved each other before the universe took its first breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be in a constant conflict with Aziraphale over snakey sexytimes! I get hella shy to post it (I am practically hiding under my keyboard right now), but sooner or later he always seems to have a moment of being so overcome by his love for Crowley that he doesn't care what form he's in. It's both very endearing, and excruciating for his poor long-suffering author.
> 
> Despite all that, I have been wanting to write a scene where they're just having fun while Crowley is in his serpent of Eden form, without needing an explanation or dicussion first, so here we are!


	9. Monochromatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale comes home to find Crowley looking at an old memento.

“Crowley? Darling? I got those salted caramel cronuts you so like. Though quite frankly I think you must have invented them to torment me, croissants and donuts are not meant to be cross-pollinated.”

“One does not pollinate pastries, angel.” Crowley’s voice drifted from the bedroom of their cottage, sounding lazy and relaxed.

“Well, obviously.” Aziraphale huffed, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he plated the pastries - he’d chosen a lovely cherry danish for himself - and started the newfangled coffee machine Crowley had insisted on getting for the cottage. He took the delicacies to the bedroom, and found Crowley snake-formed and coiled on the bed. He was staring adoringly at something. 

Putting the confections and coffee on the bedside table, Aziraphale sat on the bed next to his husband and leaned over to peek at the object that so had his attention. It was a black and white picture of himself, looking contemplatively at the Trevi Fountain in Rome, putting one hand out as if to catch the spray. A tiny scrawl at the bottom told him that the photographer was one L. Rey, and the date 1949.

“Darling, where did you get this?”

“D’ya remember, angel?” Crowley turned to look at him, golden eyes glowing. “He was a photography apprentice and he was so nervous about getting a good shot. You volunteered to pose.”

“I do recall, dear boy.” Aziraphale reached out to stroke the red scales on Crowley’s underside, admiring the way they looked extra warm and inviting in the fading russet light pouring through the window. “But why do you have a copy?”

Crowley shrugged, long body rippling. “Told him to send me a copy, didn’t I? Gave him my address. They did have a postal service in 1949, you know.”

“Oh, you wily old serpent. You know exactly what I mean.” Aziraphale broke off a piece of the cronut and fed it to Crowley, who slowly licked the last traces of caramel from his fingers.

“Was a perfect day, wasn’t it? We had oysters for old time’s sake. Went to see that play … y’know the one about the whatsit with the fancy broad … spent ages walking round looking at everything. You smiled and told me you’d had a wonderful time. Wanted to keep that moment forever. So I did.”

Aziraphale could feel himself beaming as he leaned down and scattered kisses all over Crowley’s face and the length of his jaw.

“And now you get to keep me forever.”

“Yeah.” Crowley’s gaze was so tender that Aziraphale could read it clearly even without Crowley’s human face to take cues from. “Might have to give you up if you keep insulting cronuts, though.”

Aziraphale’s snort was lost to a helpless giggle as he picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at Crowley, only to find himself wrapped snugly in heavy coils and pulled to lie on the bed. He closed his eyes, feeling held and safe. Crowley spoke close to his ear, forked tongue tickling the sensitive flesh.

“No picture could capture your beauty, angel. Guess I’ll just have to take up painting, do your portrait.”

Aziraphale sighed contentedly and trailed his fingertips down Crowley’s back. “Very well dear. But if you’re going to make me sit for hours, I must insist on snacks.”

Crowley hissed out a laugh that rumbled in his chest.

“If you say so, angel.”


	10. "Once Upon A Time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is looking rather bedraggled, and Crowley wants to warm him up!

“Don’t fuss, Crowley. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like a duck that fell in a muddy pond.”

“Well that’s just lovely.”

“C’mon, angel, let me help you.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and led him into their cottage, taking him straight to the bedroom. The angel looked frozen to the bone, his neat clothes splattered with mud.

“I’m not injured.” Aziraphale huffed, and Crowley realised he was embarrassed. “A dog fell through the ice and I acted on instinct. I was in the water before I thought to employ a miracle.”

“At least let me warm you up.” Crowley miracled his husband into soft tartan flannel pajamas, pulling back the bedcovers and indicating for him to get in.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale laughed. “You have miracled me perfectly dry. I do not need to go to bed.”

“And what if I want to curl up with you? What if I think this is as good an excuse as any to take care of you?”

“Well, then, that would be quite alright …”

Crowley smiled and went to make them tea, enjoying the simple human action of boiling the kettle and warming the teapot, gaze drifting over the lush green garden outside the window. He took the tea to the bedroom, then slipped into bed beside Aziraphale, shifting into snake form as he did.

“Can hold you better thisss way.” He murmured as he drew Aziraphale into his coils, wrapping around and around him, and tucking his head against the angel’s chest. Aziraphale gave a contented sigh, relaxing into him.

“Angel?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You could read to me, if you wanted to.”

“How altruistic of you.”

Aziraphale laughed and leaned down to press soft, slow kisses against Crowley’s jaw. Crowley tasted the angel’s soft amusement in the air, with an undercurrent of love. It was so perfect that it hurt for a moment. 

Aziraphale reached over to the bedside table and picked up one of the books that were teetering there. Sitting up a little straighter, he curled closer into Crowley and began to read.

“Once upon a time …”


	11. Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, sometimes you just have to write Snake!Crowley in a bath. That's it. That's the chapter.

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale paused outside his demon’s Mayfair flat, balancing a stack of spy novels and a box of fresh cream pastries awkwardly in one arm, other hand trying the door.

Crowley had told him many times to just walk in, but that felt so intrusive.

Though he had got into the habit of turning up at any time, trusting that Crowley would be pleased to see him, and that was rather lovely.

“Aziraphale? I’m sssssstuck. Let yourself in.”

Worried, Aziraphale pushed the door open and deposited the books and pastries on one of the small, gothic-looking tables Crowley seemed to favour. Following the thrill of demonic energy that prickled his arms and legs and made the hairs stand up, he walked into the plant room and found a despondent looking snake-formed Crowley lying on the floor.

“Darling, are you hurt?”

If Crowley noticed the endearment, he didn’t respond. Aziraphale wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

“Nah.”

“Then, if I may ask, in what way are you stuck?”

“Stuck in this form. S’fine, I like it as much as my other one anyway, but it’s the lack of choice, you know?”

“Yes, I imagine that must be particularly frustrating. May I?”

Aziraphale gestured to the floor beside Crowley, uncertain if the demon would want him close. 

“Of coursssse. Miracle yourself an armchair, I dunno. Floor won’t be comfortable.”

“Stuff and nonsense.” Aziraphale sat on the floor beside him. “Now then, suppose you tell me why you’re stuck?”

“Jussst. Happens sometimes if I’m … y’know. Bit stressed. Being a snake helps me relax, but sometimes I can’t change back. I’m probably the origin of that old wives’ tale about your face getting stuck in a funny expression if the wind changes.” He added with a snort.

“Stressed?”

Aziraphale echored, worry careening around inside his chest like a horse without a rider. Of course they’d both known their share of pressure over the years, but since their trials ended Crowley had seemed much more relaxed and happy. Aziraphale desperately wanted to keep him that way, wanted to encourage the demon to fully enjoy life, free of Hell’s influence. 

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Crowley told him in a tone that brooked no argument. “‘S just a ridiculous thing my corporation does sometimes.”

“Is there anything that might help?”

“Nope. Just gotta weather it. It’s like … like the feelings bleed out into every corner of me. Leaves me all dull and achey. It’s crap, but I’ll live.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, holding Crowley’s confessions safe against his heart. It was rare, even now, for the demon to share anything that made him a bit vulnerable.

“You know what always helps me when I feel tense?”

“The Gavotte? Re-shelving the Restoration-era poetry? Dreaming up new ways to frighten away your customers?”

Aziraphale nudged Crowley playfully with his knee, brushing against one of his long, looping coils.

“No, you insolent serpent. A bubble bath.”

Crowley raised his head, then tilted it in a curious expression.

“Huh. Never tried that.”

“No dear, I realise copious amounts of alcohol and a Golden Girls marathon is more your style, but indulge me? I daresay I’d have to modify your bathroom a little …”

“Mhm, yeah. Just got a shower. But sure, angel, thanks.”

A couple of finger-snaps later, and Aziraphale was ushering Crowley into his newly remodelled bathroom, with its huge sunken bath that was more than big enough for the impressively-sized Serpent of Eden. The bath was filled with warm water, and fragrant with the scents of patchouli, lavender and cedarwood essential oils. Soft bubbles drifted lazily on the surface.

“Gotta be honest, angel. This looks good.”

Crowley slithered into the bath with a sigh of satisfaction. 

“Ok, you were right. This is great.”

Aziraphale beamed and settled beside the bath.

“C’mon, angel. You don’t have to sit on the blasted floor. Just get in the bath with me. You’d have done it in Rome.”

Aziraphale laughed, conceding the point as he disrobed and settled in beside Crowley.

“I could, um, bathe you, if you would like that? I daresay using a flannel would be a challenge in this form, and it might be soothing.”

“Angel, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

Crowley gave him a side-eye that somehow managed to be as cheeky as any he would have given in his other corporation.

“Know better?” Aziraphale’s heart was pounding a little as he asked the question, but they had been communicating without words for so long, and he was starting to suspect the time had come to add a little more verbal clarity to their situation. While he waited to see if Crowley would answer, or shrug him off with an exasperated sound, he miracled up a soft black flannel, soaked it in the water, and started bathing his demon. His demon. He wondered what Crowley would say if he knew Aziraphale always thought of him thus.

“Well, you’re hardly given to asking outright for what you want. Not a criticism, angel.” He added, butting his head gently against Aziraphale’s bare chest, the sudden intimacy making the angel stifle a gasp. “Wasn’t safe for you to speak plain about most things, for long enough.”

“Well … maybe I was flirting, a little.” Aziraphale admitted, face flaming, though he kept gently bathing Crowley. “Is that alright?”

“Alright? Jesus fuck, angel, like I wouldn’t give you anything and everything you wanted of me.”

“Oh …. I … well, that’s rather lovely, of course …”

“But?”

Crowley prompted gently, his voice soft and serious now, and as familiar as ever despite the silky sibilance of it. He shifted in the water, rearing up so he could gaze at Aziraphale with that unwavering golden stare.

“Well, I … I didn’t know for sure what you might want, you see, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable …”

He could have sworn Crowley smiled. Then he moved closer, carefully looping over Aziraphale’s legs.

“Wanna know why I was stressed enough to get stuck?”

“Yes, please. I was worried about you.”

“Was thinking that I might ask you over for dinner later. Talk to you about … everything. See if you might want … more.”

Aziraphale’s heart did something painful and joyful and complicated.

“Because you knew it would be hard for me to broach the subject.” He whispered. When Crowley inclined his head in agreement. Aziraphale closed his eyes tight for a moment.

“Oh, Crowley …”

“Not a problem, angel. Happy to do it. Sssso, truth telling time then? I jusssst told you, whatever you want from me is yours.”

Aziraphale felt a delicious shiver run down his spine. He reached out tentatively and placed his hand on Crowley’s back, the other hand reaching to curl under the demon’s jaw, brushing the scales there as Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss to Crowley’s face.

“I want all of you, always, and in all ways. I belong to you, Crowley. In truth, I always have.”

Crowley gave a pleased-sounding sigh, whole body shifting so he could press closer, looping around Azraphale’s shoulders with his lower body coiled over the angel’s belly and thighs. He pressed his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder, carefully holding him close. They stayed like that for long minutes, or it could have been hours or days. Aziraphale lost track, and of course the water would not dare to be less than the optimum temperature.

“You’re looking better.” He observed eventually. “You’re all glossy, as you should be. I daresay you could change back if you wished.”

“I daresay.” Crowley agreed. “But perhaps I don’t want to tear myself away from you yet. That alright angel?”

Any answer Aziraphale might have given was lost so a quiet sigh of pleasure as Crowley moved over him, possessive, scales gliding over his skin and brushing every sensitive place.

“Oh, my darling, that is very much alright.” He wrapped his arms around Crowley, hands carefully exploring every long coil, feeling the way the demon moved and flexed under his touch. “But if we are to stay in the bath, I do think something is missing.”

“What’s that then, angel?”

Aziraphale grinned and miracled up a rubber duck. “Seeing as they didn’t have one in the nine circles of Hell, I thought I ought to make my own.”

Crowley shook his head slowly. “You’re impossible.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale agreed. “And you are quite stuck with me.”

He felt joy radiating from Crowley in waves then, such that he felt himself grow dizzy with it.

“Sounds alright to me.” The demon told him, settling close against the angel, wrapping around him like he would never let go. “Just please miracle your own towel this time.”

Aziraphale laughed and leaned down to kiss Crowley’s head. “Anything for you, dearest.”


	12. Clenched Fists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds himself in trouble, but Aziraphale does not let anyone hurt his Serpent of Eden.

**Wessex, During King Arthur's Reign**

“Damn snakes! Devil’s creatures!”

Crowley was not having a good day. The weather had turned suddenly, leaving him cold and miserable. He’d been about to slither away to find somewhere warm and dry, when someone grabbed him by the neck and lifted him into the air. Before he could act, there was a flurry of movement and the sound of flesh thudding into flesh. Crowley found himself unceremoniously dumped back on the grass, from where he looked up in confusion to see the knight who’d picked him up flat on his back, unconscious, with Aziraphale standing beside him with clenched fists and a look that could smite an army.

“Aziraphale, did you jusssst … punch a Knight of the Round Table?

The angel crouched down beside Crowley, brow furrowed in concern.

“I daresay I shall need to conceal that when I next file a report, but yes, I did. He dared lay hands on you in violence.”

“So you laid hands on him in violence? An eye for an eye, I suppose.”

Aziraphale looked exasperated, and Crowley quickly rushed to soothe his ruffled feathers.

“Thank you, angel. I owe you one.”

“And I will remember it.” Aziraphale teased. “May I - that is - would you like to return to my pavilion with me? You look chilled, dear boy.”

“Ssssure, that sounds good.” Crowley did not want to admit to the angel just how good that sounded.

“Could I … lift you up?”

Crowley laughed, the sound jagged and strange in his serpent form. “Of course, angel! Would hardly be the first time.”

Aziraphale laughed a bit too, then slid both hands under Crowley’s body and carefully lifted him. His broad hands were warm and so gentle as he tucked Crowley inside his fur cloak to keep him warm, hurrying back to the pavilion.

Before long, Crowley found himself curled in luxurious furs and thick woven blankets, while the angel fixed a drink of his own devising - hot whisky with tea, honey, and spices. Crowley had tried it several times and had to admit it was very warming and rather delicious.

When Aziraphale sat on the low bed beside him, Crowley wasted no time in climbing the front of the angel’s tunic to nestle against his neck, tongue giving little affectionate lashes to his jawline.

“You punched someone.”

Aziraphale hummed agreement, finger idly stroking under Crowley’s chin.

“Well, I was sent to guard the Eastern gate. I protect what’s mine.”

Crowley shifted position so he could rub his face against Aziraphale’s.

“Am I yours then, angel?”

“Would you like to be?”

Crowley thought about teasing him. But Aziraphale was offering him everything he’d ever wanted to hear, so he told him the truth.

“Yes. Very much.”

“That settles it then.” Aziraphale told him, his voice radiating affection as he cradled Crowley against him. Crowley couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe, or so wanted, as he sank against the angel’s warm, solid body, and lost himself in the sound of that dear, familiar voice, and the scent of parchment and sea air.


	13. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While an angel sleeps under a tree in Eden, a serpent says all the things he would not dare say if he was awake.

Crawly was surprised to find the angel asleep under a pear tree in the Garden. He'd never slept before. He'd told Crawly that Heaven didn’t seem too bothered if he took a few days to close up the Garden, but as it had been five days since Adam and Eve were asked to leave, they’d agreed they should probably both be gone by morning. They didn't want Heaven or Hell to get suspicious of them staying close to one another.

But they were both still stationed on earth, and Crawly knew he’d find a way to see Aziraphale again before too long.

He slithered over to the sleeping angel. It didn’t look like a peaceful sleep - his brow was furrowed, and his fingers twisted in his robes as if in worry. Crawly felt a sudden bloom of protectivenss opening in his chest. The angel who gave away his flaming sword without a second thought. Who held his wing over a demon and sheltered him from the strange new water tumbling from the sky.

Who looked at Crawly like he mattered. Who smiled at him in a way that made Crawly remember what happiness tasted like. Who had, once, in an unguarded moment, pressed his palm to Crawly’s face, then stroked down the scales of his long neck, gazing at him as if he … as if he …

Point was, Crawly wanted to keep this angel safe from Heaven and Hell alike. He ignited a protective instinct, something serpentine and dangerous that ached to squeeze and crush anyone who would threaten the angel’s happiness.

Aziraphale didn’t stir. He was lying curled on his side on a soft patch of grass, as if he’d wanted to get a little rest before entering the strange new world beyond the wall of Eden. Crawly slid through the grass beside him. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that he could lean in and whisper in the angel’s ear, just as he’d whispered to Eve. Except this time he didn’t whisper temptations. He whispered things he would not have said, were the angel able to hear.

“You’re beautiful.” Crawly hissed softly. “Satan’s sssssake, you’re far lovelier than anything else in this garden. You’re far too good for Heaven, obviously too good for Hell, and probably too good for the world out there. Certainly too good for me.”

Aziraphale stirred a little, puffing out a breath. He was so lovely in repose, with his hair curled around his face like white thistledown, and his expressive features so emotive even in slumber. He had his wings out, wrapped around himself as if to comfort himself. Crawly wondered what he was thinking, what he expected of the world out there. If he was afraid, or excited, or both.

He wondered if the angel would want to see him again, or if he would forget Crawly as soon as they were out of sight of one another. 

“I’ll miss you.” He told the sleeping angel honestly. “I’ll always be wondering where you are, or if you’re alright. I hope the world isn’t too cruel to you, angel. I hope it gives you reasons to smile.”

_ And I hope you never forget me _ , he added to himself. 

With a quiet hiss of longing, Crawly coiled around and around, resting his head on his coils and letting his focus go loose. He could take a short nap, he figured. Surely if the angel was willing to shelter him from the rain, he wouldn’t object?

“You’re quite magnificent, you know.”

Crawly came back to consciousness so fast it felt like a dive into freezing water, shocking and yet exhilarating. By a great effort of will, he didn’t move, didn’t give away that he was awake. Had he dreamed the angel’s voice saying that to him?

“I wonder if I shall see you again? I assume so. It’s a big planet, but I somehow feel that we shall not be apart for long. I hope not, at any rate.”

Crawly couldn’t bear it any more. If he stayed silent, the angel would think of his words as a secret, and probably keep them tucked away forever. It felt reckless, dangerous even, but he couldn’t let the moment pass by.

“I hope so too, angel.”

“Dear boy!” Aziraphale jumped back in shock. “You were … you were …”

“I was.” Crawly agreed. “But your lovely words woke me up.”

“Ah. My apologies.”

“No, no, angel, lisssten. Was lovely.”

Aziraphale gave him a slightly uncertain smile.

“I will miss you.” Crawly told him honestly.

Aziraphale nodded, reaching out to stroke Crawly’s jaw. Emboldened, Crawly moved closer, then paused as if to ask for permission. Aziraphale seemed to understand, nodded, and drew Crawly closer.

“I want to hold you too.” He said, his voice so gentle as he trailed his fingers over the scales at the back of Crawly’s neck. Crawly hissed softly with pleasure and wound himself around the angel’s torso, feeling the warmth of his body through his robes. Aziraphale carefully lay back until they were entwined in the long grass, looking up at the mosaic of green leaves and fruit against the blue sky. When he tucked his wing around Crawly, long feathers sliding against his scales, he was glad his snake form couldn’t shed tears, because a part of him wanted to cry for joy. For feeling whole and at peace and happy for the first time since his fall.

“We will see each other again.” The angel told him, shifting position so Crawly could drape himself over the swell of his belly, resting easily between his thighs, as if they were lovers, as if they’d been holding each other like this since the beginning of time. For a moment Crawly couldn’t reply, lost in the blissful sensation of Aziraphale lying beneath him, of long glossy coils and bright white wings sliding together as an angel and a demon twined playfully around each other, laughing together. Aziraphale was looking into his eyes with such love, his hands cradling Crawly’s body as if it was precious to him, caressing him, pressing kisses to his face and the bright red scales of his throat. Crawly responded by squeezing the angel gently but rhythmically, holding him close, tongue flickering against his neck and face, venturing to play over his lips.

They stayed like that until the sun had set and risen again, adrift in the love that flowed between them like galaxies merging. Eventually, Aziraphale stretched and sat up reluctantly, keeping Crawly held close so he couldn’t untangle himself from the angel yet.

“Crawly.” The angel leaned down so they were pressed to cheek to cheek. “I must see you again.”

“You will, angel.” Crawly reassured him, nuzzling his face into Aziraphale’s neck. “It’s ineffable.”

  
  



	14. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a peaceful night on Primrose Hill, and Aziraphale has a very important question to ask Crowley.

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the summit of Primrose Hill, and sat on one of the benches there. It was conveniently devoid of other city dwellers, of course. He was alone with nothing but the night breeze, and the panoramic view of the London skyline, neon colours glowing against the dark sky. Putting the picnic basket on the bench beside him, he busied himself with folding and re-folding the blanket, and double checking that he’d packed all the food he’d planned. He was unaccountably nervous. As if there could be any doubt of Crowley’s feelings for him. As if he hadn’t clung to each smile, each touch, each look, like a life raft in the turbulent sea of his life. Taking a fortifying breath, he retrieved the candle lanterns and set them up around the bench, and settled down to wait.

Knowing something and voicing it were two very different animals, though. And Aziraphale had, by necessity, not always been good at speaking plain.

A slight rustle in the grass caught his attention, and he turned with a smile, reaching out for his snake-formed demon. Crowley reared up in greeting, and let Aziraphale lift him in both hands, moving lazily against the angel’s hands.

“Darling! I didn’t know you would be your majestic serpent self tonight.”

“I can change.” Crowley said near his ear, as he coiled his lower body around Aziraphale’s arm.

“Did I say I was complaining?” He chided the demon gently, underscoring his words with a soft and loving kiss that made Crowley hiss his pleasure. 

“What’s the occasion, angel?” Crowley gestured with his head towards the picnic basket. 

Aziraphale didn’t answer straight away, instead taking one of Crowley’s favourite dark chocolate and ginger brownies from the basket and feeding it to him. Then he poured champagne for them both (quite how Crowley managed to drink champagne in his serpent form Aziraphale did not know, but he managed nonetheless.)

“C’mon then.” Crowley nudged Aziraphale’s shoulder with his snout. “What are we drinking to?”

“Well, I … I hope we might. That is to say. I love it up here, you know. The view, especially at night, always gives me a sense of vastness, of possibility, and there are possibilities I should like to explore … I mean, if you were amenable … of course you don’t have to say anything …”

“Try telling me what I might or might not want to say anything about, firsssst.” Crowley hissed in his ear, long body squeezing Aziraphale’s arm reassuringly.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale turned to his demon and gently cupped his jaw, feeling the scales rasp against his fingers as he turned Crowley’s face up to his. “Would you like to … to …. Oh, I know it’s a human convention and we have been so much to each other for so long … but might you consider …. Crowley, would you marry me?”

“Yesss, oh for Someone’s sake, angel, of course yessss!” Crowley seemed to be attempting to hug all of Aziraphale at the same time, his serpentine body moving restlessly as he held and squeezed, his tongue flicking lovingly against Aziraphale’s cheek.

Neither of them spoke for several long minutes after that, lost in holding each other. At length, Aziraphale reached for Crowley again, hand cupping the back of his neck and stroking down his long back.

“There is just one slight issue dear boy?”

“What’s that then?”

“I confess myself a little unsure as to how to give you your ring in this form.”

Crowley laughed so hard his whole body rippled against Aziraphale. 

“I’ll wear it on my tail, I don’t care. Come on then angel, pour us some more champagne. I want to toast my husband to be.”

As Aziraphale refilled their flutes, he reflected that the future was indeed filled with possibilities, and all of them good.


	15. Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale craves closeness with Crowley in all his forms - and is very happy to demonstrate.

Crowley slumped against the silk of his sheets, which were tangled up and warmed by body heat. The breath he didn’t need was coming in short gasps as he sank bonelessly, the long coils of his body spilling messily open. 

“Angel …” he breathed, body still trembling.

He felt Aziraphale’s warm hands on his body, stroking down over his scales, soothing him as he shook.

“That was …” he tried again, and tasted the sweet tang of warm amusement on the air as Aziraphale laughed. 

“Everything you hoped it would be?” he said hopefully, with a faint note of doubt that made Crowley feel instantly protective. 

“More than.” Crowley shifted position so he could see Aziraphale’s beautiful face, his feather-soft curls damp with sweat. He leaned across until he was close enough to lash his tongue gently along the line of Aziraphale’s jaw and down his neck.

“I always wanted to, you know. Since I saw you in Eden.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, my love. I have always been drawn to you. I’ve dreamed of you wrapped around me, feeling completely surrounded by you, giving myself to you in your original demon form.”

If Crowley could have shut his eyes at that moment, he would. Instead, he buried his face in the pillow with a huff. He felt Aziraphale move closer, until the angel’s warm, soft belly and chest were pressed against the scales of Crowley’s back, his familiar weight pinning Crowley to the bed as he pressed his mouth to Crowley’s jaw, breathing against him.

“Thank you for letting me show you how perfect you are to me.”

Crowley couldn’t repress a low rattle of a groan as Aziraphle’s hand wandered down his belly, fingers playing against the red scales. He could feel the angel’s obvious excitement every time either of them moved, and the light taste of his essence had taken on the hot smoky taste of desire. A sudden memory of Aziraphale groaning and shouting his name, spilling all over his scales, had him writhing sharply.

“Oh, lovely.” Aziraphale murmured, pressing closer and grinding slowly against Crowley’s strong body. “You know if you feel I have not quite provided adequate proof of how much I crave you in every form, I would be happy to provide further demonstrations …” 

For a moment Crowley could only hiss his pleasure as Aziraphale’s fingers explored further down his red underbelly. When he regained his senses slightly, he rolled suddenly, catching Aziraphale in his coils and pressing close to his angel, revelling in the feel of so much of his lover against him. 

“Mmm, now you mention it, I’m not certain I learned the lesson. Probably better to demonstrate more. Just to be safe.”

Aziraphale gave him that smile, with just a hint of wickedness, wrapping both legs around Crowley, hands reaching to cup his face lovingly as his smile softened into something impossibly fond.

“If I can spend the rest of eternity showing you how beloved you are, I shall count myself very fortunate indeed.”


	16. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a balmy night in 1906, and Crowley is at the Palace of Holyroodhouse for a reception. When he hears the soft sound of a piano he realises there must be someone other than the angel nearby. After all, Aziraphale does't play the piano ... does he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten rather behind with these, but I'm still planning to write all 31!

At first Crowley thought he was hearing things. The royal family and servants had long since retired. The only other presence registering downstairs in the Palace of Holyroodhouse was Aziraphale and he wouldn’t … would he?

Curious, Crowley slithered along the smooth hardwood floors, past oil paintings and rich tapestries, until he reached a small music-room, with windows that looked out over the verdant grandeur of Holyrood Park. Though Crowley’s attention was much more focused on the sight of Aziraphale, sitting at the grand piano, still wearing the formal tailcoat, wingtip shirt, and braid stripe black trousers he’d had on at the reception. Crowley had kept to his snake form, because it was easier to hide and whisper temptations to his targets, but truth be told he’d got distracted by the angel more than once. 

It was hardly his fault. It was rare to see Aziraphale in clothes that didn’t appear to have been dragged kicking and screaming out of history. But it was a balmy summer night in 1906, and Aziraphale looked like he’d dressed for 1906, and it was unfairly distracting.

And now, of all blessed things, he was playing Beethoven, the notes drifting sweetly in the air as Crowley watched in confusion. Since when did he play piano?

Crowley made to slither quietly into the room, to get even closer for a better sense of the vibration in the air, and Satan’s blasted luck, his tail caught what was most likely a very expensive vase, which shattered on the floor. Aziraphale startled, drawing his hands back from the keys as if they’d grown hot.

“Crowley! I thought you’d left.”

Crowley glided to the piano. “Came back to sample some of the leftover goodies from the dinner. The Royal Family know how to eat.”

Aziraphale laughed “I can’t argue with that plan.” 

Crowley reared up slightly and inclined his head towards the keys. “Didn’t know you played.”

“Oh.” The angel flushed slightly. “I took a few lessons when I was stationed in Milan at the start of last century.”

“You’re very good.” Crowley told him, as Aziraphale scooped him up carefully and placed him atop the piano so they were eye to eye. The angel blushed more deeply and looked away, but Crowley saw the smile that played on his lips.

“So, are you going to play for me? Then we can go grab some decent food.”

“Would you really like me to?”

Aziraphale asked. Crowley leaned forward for a moment, nuzzling the angel’s nose.    
  
“Always.”


	17. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is injured and feels frustratingly helpless. But help comes from an unexpected quarter. Well, unexpected to Aziraphale. As readers, we are all just going "Well of course!! Who else???"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what happened with this chapter! But it's the story that wanted to be told, so I told it. Content warning for venom, injury (not graphic, and not permanent), and child endangerment (the child is fine.) This one is definitley more hurt/comfort than fluff, but there's enough fluff that it still fits the theme, I think.

**Mesopotamia, Early Dynastic Period**

Aziraphale cracked one eye open. His bones felt like they were burning and every sound was heightened until the rustle of wind-blown dust by the cave entrance sounded like iron hailstones on a bone roof. Groaning, he closed his eyes again, wondering how long he’d been lying there.

It was supposed to be a non-interference mission. Heaven had heard rumours that Hell had a stake in the wars around Lagash. They wanted to ensure their favoured leaders were victorious, so they had sent Aziraphale to observe and report back.

But then one of Hell’s warriors had raised their weapon against a child, and Aziraphale had rushed to stop them. The little one was thankfully unharmed, but Aziraphale had taken a heavy blow to the shoulder with a Hell-forged blade. He’d managed to evade a second blow with a powerful strike of his own, but it had taken all his strength, and it was all he could do to drag himself to the cave, cover the entrance with stones, and hope his assailant didn’t come looking for him.

“Asssziraphale?”

The voice was soft, as if trying to escape detection. Crawly. Aziraphale had only seen the demon once or twice since Eden, and was surprised at how relieved he was to hear his voice. There was a tiny shiver of a miracle, and the cave glowed with a soft light.

“What happened?” Crawly asked, and Aziraphale heard the rasp of his scales on the cave floor as he approached.

“You’re a snake.”

He said, as if Crawly might not have noticed. The demon hissed a laugh. “Observant thing, aren’t you? Thought it’d be easier to slip in here unnoticed this way. Hell sent me to see how the campaign was going. Ssssorry, I saw Veleth hit you, but I was too far away to help.”

“Couldn’t have helped.” Aziraphale mumbled. “Would have gone badly for you.”

“Yeah, ‘spose. I’m here now though.”

“Not dangerous for you to be here?”

“Maybe. Probably not. They’re all pleased the battle went their way, and I’ve sent my report.”

Aziraphale gave a tiny nod, then rested his cheek against the earth. He felt Crawly slither over his back as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do, using his head to nudge the cloth of Aziraphale’s shawl aside and examine the wound.

“That looks nasty.” He said sympathetically. “Don’t suppose you could ask one of your side to heal it?”

“Oh, it’s been made clear to me that injuries to my corporation are my problem. And unfortunately, I cannot miracle it better yet. Hopefully in a few days when I’ve regained my strength.”

“Issss it dangerous to leave it?” Crawly sounded concerned.

“Not sure. Not deadly I don’t think. Just painful mostly. Affecting my angelic powers more than I’d like.”

It was such a calm conversation, Aziraphale thought, considering he was lying flat on the floor of a cave, with a snake-formed Crawly coiled on his back. When he felt Crawly nudge the wound very, very gently with his snout, something strange and hot flared in his chest. 

“I think I can help. But you’re not going to like my idea.”

“Try me.” Aziraphale muttered. Anything had to be better than lying on the ground waiting to be able to function again.

“I could use my venom.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale tried to turn, to see Crawly, but his sluggish, painful limbs refused to obey.

“My venom.” Crawly repeated, as if that cleared everything up. “Look, I’m a snake-shaped demon, not an actual snake. Got a lot of control over my own corporation. Hell is not the safest place and I wanted to be sure I could protect myself, so I miracled my venom to be toxic to other demons. In theory, it should destroy the traces of energy his sword left behind.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

There was a rustling sound, and Aziraphale could just picture Crawly shifting awkwardly against Aziraphale’s clothes, unsure of what he was about to say.

“Well ...it’ll hurt. A lot. Don’t think it’ll harm you, being that it’s toxic for demons, not angels. But it’s still venom. Might hurt even if it does heal you, actually.”

Azirphale sighed. He was already in immense pain. Surely it couldn’t be worse than that?

“Try it.” He told Crawly.

“You’re ssssure?”

“Yes, for Heaven’s sake. Just get on with it.”

“That’s gratitude.” Crawly muttered, but it was teasing, and Aziraphale laughed a little. Then he felt the sharp burn of Crawly’s fangs piercing his skin, forcing a sudden, sharp cry from him. 

“It’s ok. I’ve got you.” Crawly hissed, the sound oddly soothing. Aziraphale felt the soft rasp of scales against his skin, and realised Crawly was stroking his back, rippling gently against it. There was something caring and gentle in the movement, and he was glad Crawly couldn’t see his face at that moment. Then he felt a sensation like soft, warm water flowing through his injured shoulder, and down through the rest of his body. It felt like being bathed in sunlight, loosening his stiff limbs and soothing his wounds. 

After a few moments, he felt almost completely whole again, and strong enough to roll over and sit up. Crawly slithered onto the floor, and without thinking, Aziraphale scooped him up and lifted him into his lap. The demon reared up a little in surprise, but didn’t object. They looked at each other for a long moment. Aziraphale felt awkward … he didn’t know Crawly well, and it seemed so intimate …

“Thank you.” He said at last, unsure what else he could say, under the circumstances.

“Welcome.”

After a long moment, Crawly took his golden gaze from Aziraphale, and looked around the cave.

“Bit gloomy, isn’t it? Shall I go see whether the coast is clear? I could switch forms if it is, we could venture out for something to eat.”

Aziraphale smiled, contentment washing over him. There was something right about Crawly, about talking with him. Something right about carrying part of the demon’s essence inside of him. It was blasphemy and it should have been disturbing, frightening even, but instead it felt like belonging, and safety.

“Excellent plan.” He told Crawly. The snake nodded, then shifted closer and nuzzled his head against Aziraphale’s neck. Surprised, Aziraphale ran a tentative hand down the demon’s back.

“I’m glad you’re alright.” Crawly said softly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Then he slithered towards the cave entrance, and not another word was said. But Aziraphale felt a change within him, as if the part of him that kept pulling his thoughts and heart back towards Heaven, had found a new star to follow.


End file.
